Emily’s tongue found my clit and I gasped, my hips rocking harder. The words kept coming, unbidden, channeling something ugly and desperate that I hadn’t known was there.
“Get that tongue in my asshole,” I demanded, shifting my weight back. I felt her comply, felt the wet muscle probe my most intimate place, and the sensation made me cry out. “That’s it. Make me come. Make me fucking come.”
I rode her face with abandon, all pretense of control dissolving as my body chased the release it needed. My daddies’ hands held me steady, supporting me as I used Emily the way she’d used me, the way all of them had used me. The pleasure built with terrifying intensity, and when my orgasm finally hit, it tore through me like lightning.
I screamed, my whole body convulsing as wave after wave crashed over me. My pussy clenched, my ass tightened around Emily’s probing tongue, and for a moment everything went white with the intensity of it.
When I finally came down, trembling and gasping, my daddies helped me dismount. I couldn’t look at Emily’s face, couldn’t process what I’d just done, what I’d just become.
“Excellent,” Daddy Howard said, his voice carrying approval that made my chest tighten with conflicting emotions. “Now, girls, it’s time for the main event.”
I watched through a haze as they positioned Emily on her hands and knees in the center of the mats. My mind was still reeling from what had just happened, from the vicious things I’d said, from how much I’d enjoyed degrading her the way she’d degraded me.
What am I becoming?
But I didn’t have time to process that question, because my daddies were guiding me and the other girls into position on our sides, arranging us in pairs.
“Pam and Keiko,” Daddy Ed said, his analytical voice cutting through my confusion. “Sixty-nine position. Joyce and Shaniqua, same.”
My heart hammered as Keiko and I were positioned facing opposite directions, her pussy inches from my face, mine from hers. I felt her warm breath against my most intimate place and shuddered.
“Begin,” Daddy Bill commanded.
I pressed my face between Keiko’s thighs, tasting her as her tongue found my clit. The sensation was overwhelming after the intensity of what had just happened. I worked her with my mouth, trying to focus on her pleasure rather than my own spiraling thoughts.
Beside us, I could hear Joyce and Shaniqua doing the same, their muffled moans mixing with ours. But my attention was drawn to Emily, still on her hands and knees in the center. Past Keiko’s rounded bottom cheeks I could see the next part of her ordeal beginning.
Daddy Ben and Daddy Howard positioned themselves on either side of her. I watched through the tangle of Keiko’s thighs as they pulled their leather belts out of their belt loops, doubling them over and wrapping the ends around their hands.
Keiko squirmed, and I couldn’t see what was happening from my position any longer, but I heard the sharp crack of a belt striking flesh, heard Emily cry out. The sound was followed by another crack, and another, a steady rhythm of leather meeting skin.
“That’s for being such a good girl,” Daddy Howard said between strikes. “For completing your rehabilitation so beautifully.”
The whipping continued, and I felt Keiko’s tongue work faster against my clit, felt my own arousal building dangerously high. Then I heard Emily gasp, heard the wet sound of penetration, and knew one of her daddies had entered her pussy.
“Beautiful,” Daddy Ben grunted. “So fucking tight.”
Strong hands pulled me away from Keiko, breaking our connection. I looked up to see Daddy Bill settling onto one of the chairs that had been brought to the edge of the mats. His eyes met mine as he patted his thigh.
“Over you go, Little Pamela,” he said.
My heart sank even as my pussy clenched with anticipation. I crawled to him and draped myself across his lap, feeling the familiar position settle around me. Around the room, the other daddies were doing the same with their girls—Keiko over one daddy’s knee, Shaniqua over another’s, Joyce over a third’s.
The first spank landed on my right cheek, sharp and stinging. I gasped, my hands clutching at Daddy Bill’s leg. He didn’t pause, just brought his hand down again and again in that relentless rhythm I’d come to know so well. The heat built quickly, spreading across my bottom as he covered every inch with firm, punishing swats.
Around me I heard the other girls crying out, heard the sound of multiple hands striking multiple bottoms. The room filled with the symphony of discipline—flesh meeting flesh, girls sobbing, daddies murmuring encouragement and correction.
Behind it all, I could hear Emily being used. The wet sounds of her daddies’ cocks sliding in and out of her, her moans of pleasure and pain mixing together. I knew one of them must be in her ass now, could hear the difference in her cries.
My own spanking continued, building to that point where the pain became something else, something that unlocked places inside me I didn’t want to acknowledge. Tears streamed down my face as Daddy Bill’s hand came down again and again,teaching my bottom its lesson while my pussy dripped with shameful arousal.
When he finally stopped, my ass felt like it was on fire. But there was no time to recover. Strong hands lifted me, positioned me on my knees on the mat. I felt Daddy Ed behind me, felt his hands on my hips.
“Faces down,” someone commanded.
I lowered my forehead to the mat, my burning bottom raised high, my pussy exposed and vulnerable. Around me, the other three girls assumed the same position—a line of presented asses, of girls ready to be used.
I felt lubricant being applied to my anus, felt Daddy Ed’s fingers work it in, stretching me. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against the tiny ring and I bit my lip as he began to push inside. The stretch was intense, the fullness overwhelming as he buried himself in my ass.
